


One Thousand Kisses

by MirrorMystic



Category: Persona 5
Genre: F/F, F/M, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Post-Canon, Tailwind Verse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-03-24 08:59:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 36
Words: 15,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13807908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirrorMystic/pseuds/MirrorMystic
Summary: Live in my house; I'll be your shelterJust pay me back with one thousand kisses...The Phantom Thieves love each other in more ways than they can count- but it's certainly worth a try.Snapshots of a life spent in love with all your friends. Updated... as often as I can manage, although I'm taking a break for now.Our latest kiss: Akira, Shiho, and chemistry.





	1. Haru, Ann, and a Walk-In Closet

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome, everyone, to 'One Thousand Kisses'- one thousand snapshots of life with the polythieves. It was originally going to be one thousand drabbles- but I knew right away I'd never be able to keep each of these to exactly one hundred words. 
> 
> The love these kids share means a lot to me, and I hope this project can brighten your day with a daily, bite-sized bit of it. 
> 
> Let me know if there are any particular pairings or prompts you're eager to see! And as always, I hope you enjoy the read!

~*~  
  
“Now remember: no peeking,” Haru chirped in Ann’s ear, her hands over Ann’s eyes.   
  
“You’re not taking me to some weird underground sex dungeon, are you?” Ann wondered.   
  
“Never on a first date,” Haru giggled. “Surprise!”  
  
Ann opened her eyes and her heart thudded in her chest.   
  
Haru’s walk-in closet was a sight to behold, filled to bursting with designer clothes. There were rows of shoes laid out on knee-high racks; a forest of scarves festooning the walls like climbing ivy; and a rack of color-coded dresses formed a rainbow displayed along the far wall.   
  
Ann stared at the sea of color with stars in her eyes, at a loss for words.   
  
“We’re not quite the same size,” Haru said quickly, taking Ann’s silence for disappointment. “You’re a lot taller and, ah, narrower than I am. But anything that fits is yours to borrow. N-Not that you need designer labels to look good! You look fantastic no matter what. Honestly, Ann, you’d look amazing in a burlap sack-”   
  
“Marry me,” Ann blurted out.   
  
Haru blinked. “What?”  
  
“I- I mean, help me… carry… these…?” Ann said, while Haru giggled, a hand to her mouth.  
  
~*~


	2. Ann, Shiho, Ryuji, and the Sunrise

~*~  
  
Ann Takamaki was not a morning person.    
  
The same could not be said of her best friends. Long before Ann was dragging herself out of bed in search of her hairbrush so she could ‘tame the lion’, Ryuji and Shiho were out and about.   
  
They pulled the front door shut and kicked off their shoes, fresh from their daily run to the pier so they could watch the sun rise over Tokyo Bay. Judging by the quiet, Ann was still asleep.    
  
They traded fist bumps, before Shiho went upstairs to shower and Ryuji got to rummaging through Ann’s fridge. Soon enough, it was time to trade places- it was Ryuji’s turn to shower, and Shiho’s to watch the stove.    
  
Ann, unsurprisingly, kept right on sleeping.    
  
“Is she serious? We’ve got stuff to do,” Ryuji complained, emerging from the shower to find Ann still in bed, out like a log. Shiho just smiled, took Ryuji’s hand, and pulled him down.    
  
Eventually, Ann awoke- to Shiho’s serene smile in front of her and Ryuji’s arm around her waist. She blinked, confused, glancing at the clock on the nightstand.    
  
“Oh, wow,” Ann murmured. “I’m never the first one up.”   
  
Ann untangled herself from her best friends, pecking Shiho on the cheek and trailing her hands through Ryuji’s hair. She wandered downstairs, hairbrush lodged in her mane, and sleepily sat at the table- still so groggy she didn’t even wonder how breakfast was already made.   
  
~*~


	3. Futaba, Akira, and Noise Complaints

~*~

“Hey!” Sojiro smacked his ladle against the wall, leaving a smear of curry sauce. “Keep it down!”

There was no response, save a rhythmic pounding. Sojiro swiped a dish towel over the smear before it could stain. Couldn’t a man get a head start on tomorrow’s curry in peace? He scowled. He didn’t know exactly what they were doing in Futaba’s room. But he could hazard a guess…

“I’m on the edge!” Futaba wailed. “Of glory! And I’m hanging on the moment of truth!”

“I’m on the edge!” Akira sang. “Of glory! And I’m hanging on a moment with you…!”

_“I’m on the edge, the edge, the edge, the edge, the edge, the edge-”_

“That’s you!” Futaba cackled, singing into the head of one of her Featherman figures.  
  
 _"I'm on the edge of glory, and I'm hanging on a moment with you...!"_

“Dance break!” Akira announced, and Futaba climbed up onto her computer chair like it was a stage. She rolled her non-existent hips, aiming for ‘sexy’ and landing squarely at ‘adorable’. She jumped, and looped her arms around Akira’s neck. He tripped backwards over her bed and they fell onto the floor, laughing like hyenas to a dance floor sax solo.

“I’m on the edge!” Akira and Futaba sang, stifling giggles. “With you, with you, with you…!”

“You! Have! Work! In! The! Morning!” Sojiro yelled, banging a fist against their door. He didn’t hear a response- just bright laughter, thumping bass, and Sojiro’s own sigh of disdain, blaming American music for this late-night debauchery.

~*~


	4. Makoto, Yusuke, and a Fitting Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to toriewink on Twitter for today's prompt!

~*~  
  
“Yusuke,” Makoto began, “do you remember that little talk we had about _personal space_?”  
  
“I take umbrage at the notion that I would do _anything_ untoward-”  
  
“This is a dressing room, Yusuke,” Makoto said. “ _Out_.”  
  
Yusuke acquiesced, and left Makoto to change in peace.   
  
“Tell me,” Yusuke said from the adjoining room, “what made you decide on today’s outing?”  
  
“This is going to sound silly,” Makoto said, “but Ann, Shiho… even Hifumi is taller than I am. I have to look _up_ when we kiss. It drives me crazy. So this… this is my way of tipping the scales.”  
  
Makoto emerged from the dressing room as the very image of the young professional, in a button-up dress shirt, suspenders, and tie, her jacket slung over her shoulder. She was an undone tie and a few loose buttons away from setting the group chat on fire. Yusuke, meanwhile, looked like he’d stepped out of time- double-breasted vest, swallowtail coat. All he was missing was a top hat and a pocketwatch on a gold chain.   
  
“If you’re going to wear a cravat, wear it right,” Makoto tutted, reaching for Yusuke’s collar.   
  
The sight of Makoto looking up at the much-taller Yusuke was enough to stop anyone in their tracks. Yusuke easily saw the appeal.  
  
“You look lovely,” Yusuke said, utterly sincere, “but also… daunting. Like an unsheathed knife. Or a woman whose hands I’d be reluctant to have so near my neck.”  
  
“Well,” Makoto smiled, her red eyes flashing in the light. “It’s different with the girls.”  
  
~*~


	5. Haru, Ryuji, and a Bouquet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to toriewink on Twitter for today's prompt!

~*~  
  
“Ryu-kun? What are you doing here?”  
  
Ryuji jumped and hastily stepped away from the vase he was crouched over. He reached up and sheepishly scratched the back of his neck, flashing Haru an embarrassed smile.   
  
“Oh, h-hey, Haru. I was just visiting a friend of my mom’s, Hana. She owns this place.”  
  
“‘Hana’? That’s fitting.”  
  
“Okay, yeah, I made that up.”  
  
“Oh, Ryuji…” Haru tittered, a hand to her mouth. She crouched down, examining the vase where Ryuji had been assembling his bouquet. She nodded, noting his choices of flowers. “...You know, they say that there’s a language behind giving people flowers.”  
  
“For real?” Ryuji asked. “They taught you that in heiress school?”  
  
“Among other things,” Haru smiled. She trailed a hand through the arrangement, brushing her fingers through petals and stems. “Pink carnations for gratitude… sunflowers for joy… honeysuckle for devoted affection…” Haru’s eyes twinkled. “Is this for someone special?”  
  
“...It’s for my mom.” Ryuji muttered. He saw the look in Haru’s eyes. “Don’t you start…!”  
  
“No, it’s sweet!” Haru cooed. Her gentle smile turned impish. “...Although, if this bouquet is for your mother, then the red roses have _got_ to go.”  
  
~*~


	6. Shiho, Akira, and Distance

~*~  
  
Shiho lay on the grassy banks of the Samegawa River, her hands behind her head, watching the clouds go by. Just another lazy summer day in the countryside, with nothing to do-  
  
-except Akira.  
  
“It’s hot,” Akira said to the sky, laying on the hill beside her. “You should take off your sweater.”  
  
“But it’s my favorite,” Shiho said. Akira glanced down at the four-leaf clover on her hoodie and gave her a knowing smile.  
  
“You could take off some more,” Akira said, lightly.  
  
“Akira,” Shiho teased, “are you just flirting with me because you’re bored?”  
  
“That doesn’t have to be the _only_ reason,” Akira said.  
  
“Don’t go falling in love with me,” Shiho said. Her lips curled into an infuriatingly smug grin- Akira knew it, because it was his. “You’ll have to get in line.”  
  
“Punk,” Akira said, with the utmost fondness. He bumped an elbow against hers, and they lay there together, gazing up at the clouds, thoughts drifting to Tokyo and to absent friends.  
  
A long moment passed between them. Cicadas screeched in their ears.   
  
“...Do you want to go to Junes?” Akira offered, lamely, his fingers laced over his stomach.  
  
Shiho took a deep breath and sighed. . “...Sure.”  
  
~*~


	7. Ann, Ryuji, and Proximity

~*~  
  
“I’ve been thinking…”  
  
“That’s new.”  
  
“Fuck off,” Ryuji grinned, bumping an elbow against Ann’s. They were both lying upside down on Ann’s bed, hanging off the edge so all the blood rushed to their heads. “Anyway. We’re… close, right?”  
  
“I have a key to your place, and you’re literally, currently in bed with me. We’re close. What’s your point?”  
  
“I was thinking,” Ryuji said. “You, me, Shiho, Akira, everybody, really… if it wasn’t for the Metaverse shit, do you think we still would’ve been friends? Or was it all just… proximity?”  
  
“Nah,” Ann says, faster and more firmly than Ryuji expected. “Haru has this thing she says. ‘Chance brings people together, but choice keeps them there.’ You chose to bleach your hair for me. Shiho chose to roast me in art class.”  
  
“Akira didn’t choose to come to Tokyo, though.”  
  
“He didn’t choose to leave, either,” Ann said. “Same with Shiho. When they come back for good, that’ll be their choice, too. Maybe in the country, when you’re just stuck hanging out with whoever’s close by, that’s a thing. But here in the city? It’s not about who you find. It’s about who stays.”  
  
Ryuji nodded, thoughtful. “And here you are.”  
  
Ann sat up, laughing. “Of course I am, you dingus. This is my house. And if we keep on talking this sappy, I’m literally gonna barf, so do you wanna, like, put on a movie, or something…?”  
  
~*~


	8. Ryuji, His Mother, and Hair Bleach

~*~  
  
“What did you do to your hair?”  
  
It wasn’t an accusation. It was just simple curiosity. Still, Ryuji froze in the doorway, hiking his shoulders up to his ears.  
  
Sanae Sakamoto was a small woman, short but stout, with broad shoulders, a week-old pixie cut, and eyes that could always see right through him. Ryuji sighed. He could never lie to those eyes.  
  
“There’s this girl at school,” Ryuji began, rolling his eyes when his mother immediately perked up. “Takamaki. Her dad’s not from Japan. She’s the only blonde at school, and everybody gives her sh- _stuff_ , for it, so I figured…”  
  
He trailed off, and Sanae nodded, thoughtful. Ryuji wasn’t sure what he expected her to say, but it sure wasn’t “Can you show me how you did it?”  
  
“Honestly, Ma, I only sort of know what I’m doing,” Ryuji said, later that night, while Sanae was leaning over the bathroom sink and he was pulling on a pair of rubber gloves.  
  
“It’s okay. I looked this up on the internet,” Sanae chirped. “Apparently, my new haircut’s perfect for bleaching! Bleach damages your hair, so best to keep it short. If your father ever sets foot in this house again, he’s gonna know exactly the kind of lady he’s missin’ out on. And!”  
  
“Ow! Ma...!” Ryuji whined, as Sanae pinched his cheek, grinning brighter than he’d seen her in years.  
  
“And, when people ask, Ryuji? You can say you got all your good looks from _me_!”  
  
~*~


	9. Makoto, Shiho, Ryuji, and Arm Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to boxofwonder for the prompt: workout buddies!

~*~  
  
“Would it make any difference at all if I said this was a bad idea?” Makoto asked, laying on her back on the gym floor.   
  
“Why don’t we just use the barbell?” Shiho wondered.   
  
“Nah, that’d be too easy,” Ryuji grinned, clapping his hands together. “We could just switch to the barbell if you want. But, uh… I’m prepared to call that cowardice.”  
  
Makoto’s eyes flashed dangerously. “I’m no coward.”  
  
“That’s what I thought,” Ryuji said. He took a deep breath, and shook out his limbs. Below him, Makoto opened her hands, ready for him. He carefully stepped onto Makoto’s palms. Makoto sucked in a breath and he wobbled forward, catching himself on Shiho’s shoulders. Their eyes met, and Shiho broke into giggles.   
  
“This is the _dumbest_ -”  
  
“No no no, she’s doing it! She’s doing it!”  
  
Makoto grit her teeth, and extended her arms. “...One! Ngh… two…! Three…!”  
  
Makoto made it through almost an entire set of bench pressing Ryuji before Shiho became too busy cheering to actually hold Ryuji steady. He tripped backwards and fell across her legs, his hasty apologies swallowed up by Makoto’s snorting laughter. Shiho dove into the pile of tangled limbs, glistening sweat and poor decisions, and together, the three of them laughed and laughed.  
  
~*~


	10. Futaba and the Attic

~*~  
  
Futaba goes to his room the day after he leaves- the day it was suddenly real.   
  
She trails her fingers along empty shelves, shoots a scornful look to the secondhand laptop left sitting on his worn-out work desk. The Phantom Thieves banner is still hanging in the window. She climbs up onto his bed, just a bare, ratty mattress on cinderblocks, and pulls the banner down. ‘Take Your Heart’, the banner proclaims- as if him stealing away to his hometown wasn’t the biggest heist he’d ever pulled. Futaba rubs the cloth between her fingers, and tries her hardest not to cry.   
  
Sojiro finds her that evening, hugging her knees to her chest and wrapped in the banner like a blanket. The empty attic looks so big, and Futaba looks so small.   
  
Sojiro tells her the attic will go back to being storage space. Sojiro can’t lie to save his life.   
  
Futaba finds herself spending more time in the attic than her own room. As the months go by, Futaba keeps her vigil- and she doesn’t do it alone. She invites Haru over to tend to the plant in the corner, Yusuke to hang up some paintings. Ann donates a proper dresser; Makoto, a proper bedframe. Ryuji spends an afternoon sitting on the floor, puzzling over the assembly instructions for a new computer desk. And Futaba has plans, big plans, for a new computer.   
  
Renovating the attic gives Futaba something to focus on, at least.   
  
It doesn’t stop her from abruptly going quiet, one night, setting her controller aside on the bed, leaving a retro fighting game paused on the screen.   
  
“I miss Akira,” she whispers.   
  
Ann looks up from the carrot-red braid, unfinished, in her hands. She scoots forward and curls an arm around Futaba’s waist, tucking her chin over the smaller girl’s head, while Ryuji reaches over, picks up the second controller, and presses start.   
  
~*~


	11. Ryuji, Makoto, and Trail Running

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to candymeltzdraws on Twitter for today's prompt!

~*~  
  
Ryuji took a long swig on his water bottle and gasped. He doubled over, reaching up and pouring some water over his head, before shaking himself dry like a dog. He looked up the trail, where a waist-high wooden barricade was the only thing stopping you from just falling all the way down the mountain. There, his companion stood, stretching, silhouetted against the rising sun. Ryuji broke into a jocular grin.   
  
“Ryuji,” she said playfully, “are you looking at my butt?”  
  
“Pfft, that’s nothin’ compared to your calves. Oh, oh, and your arms!”   
  
“Hush,” Makoto smiled, rolling her eyes. She nodded down the trail. “So. What do you think?”  
  
“I’m a city slicker, through and through,” Ryuji shrugged, gesturing towards the city stretching out below them. “But this? I could get used to this. Feels better than runnin’ on pavement. And you get one hell of a view.”  
  
Ryuji’s phone chirped. He slipped it out of his pocket and smiled, shaking his head, tilting his phone so Makoto could see. It was a picture of Tokyo at street level, with Ann in a tracksuit facedown on a park bench, Shiho’s bright eyes in the corner, and a red circle drawn around the mountain in the distance.   
  
‘ _I think I can see you!’_ the banner read.   
  
Ryuji unselfconsciously looped an arm around Makoto’s shoulders, lifted his phone, and snapped a photo. Makoto smiled, her arm lingering around Ryuji’s waist while he texted Shiho back, reassuring her that yes, they _would_ come down to help her drag Ann back home.  
  
“I bet we’re the tallest people in Tokyo right now,” Makoto mused, gently.   
  
Ryuji nodded. “Must be a nice change for you.”  
  
“Oh, Ryuji, don’t ruin it…”  
  
~*~


	12. Yusuke, Hifumi, and a Gambler's Heart

~*~  
  
She reads him in a second.   
  
She knows his type. Artsy. Eccentric. The kind of fop who preens with his hand to his chest, who loiters at street crossings and makes picture frames with his fingers- the softspoken, intellectual type who nonetheless can’t remember which mug is his coffee and which one is paint water.   
  
Hifumi understands this. He’s just like every other aspiring artist who’s ever set foot in Kosei High.   
  
What she doesn’t understand is why he’s talking to her.   
  
“I’m Hifumi Togo,” she says, with a voice unused to conversation, “but my friends call me Fumi.”  
  
“It’s my pleasure, Togo-san,” he says, with a dip of his head, and from that moment on Hifumi eyes him like a hawk.   
  
Every day, for a week, he meets her after school to play shogi. Every day, he loses, and thanks her for the game with a smile and a nod. And every day, Hifumi watches him, wary, with eyes that see competition everywhere, eyes trained to spot a gamble or a threat.   
  
After the sixth game, she finally snaps.   
  
“Why are you doing this?” she demands. “Why do you keep coming to see me? What’s your angle? I swear, if my mother put you up to this-”  
  
Yusuke just holds up a hand in supplication, a pensive look in his eyes.   
  
“Forgive me, but you are mistaken, Togo-san. There’s no angle. No ulterior motive. I come to see you, and play you, solely because I enjoy your company. But if that feeling is not mutual- if I offend you in any way- then you have my apologies, and I shall take my leave.”  
  
Yusuke stands up, lips carrying the trace of a frown, his eyes downcast. Hifumi follows his gaze to her board and gasps- Yusuke was a single move away from checkmate. Had her technique slipped so badly? Had she been so busy searching for a threat that wasn’t there?  
  
Yusuke must see it, too, because his eyes flit up to hers and his lips curl into a rueful smile.   
  
“Thank you for the game,” he nods, “and thank you for going easy on me, Togo-san.”  
  
“Please,” Hifumi says before she can stop herself. “Call me Hifumi.”  
  
“Hifumi…” Yusuke says slowly, carefully. “...I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”   
  
In her guarded heart, Hifumi knows- this, too, is a gamble. But she smiles, nods, and takes the risk.   
  
~*~


	13. Makoto, Ann, and Spring Cleaning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to candymeltzdraws on Twitter for today's prompt!

~*~  
  
“Alright!” Makoto clapped her hands together. “Here’s the plan! This box is stuff to keep; this box is stuff to store; this box is stuff to donate; and this garbage bag is, well, garbage. Got it?”  
  
“Got it!” Ann chirped, looking adorable in her apron, her hair covered by a bandana.  
  
Makoto smiled. “Then let’s get started.”  
  
They started picking through the warzone that was Ann’s bedroom, a room that looked for all the world like a bomb had gone off. Ann had invited Makoto over for some spring cleaning; but it became readily apparent that the actual cleaning would have to wait until the clutter was dealt with. Thankfully, Makoto had boxes, garbage bags, and latex gloves to spare.   
  
Makoto paused, taking in a large photo pinned up on Ann’s wall. It was some sort of swim meet- two dozen beautiful women with their arms around each other, beaming for the camera.   
  
“Was this a competition?” Makoto wondered. “Where are you in this photo?”  
  
“Oh, I don’t swim,” Ann shrugged.   
  
“Um. Okay,” Makoto blinked. She moved to another shelf and started sorting. “So, Ann… where, um. Where is everybody?”  
  
“I think Ryuji’s at Akira’s today, and Thursdays are Shiho’s late night on campus… oh, and my parents are out of the country. As usual.” Ann rolled her eyes. “Oh, oh! Wait, don’t touch that!”  
  
“Hm?” Makoto looked up, a sheaf of folders and papers in her hands.   
  
“Sorry,” Ann said, sheepish. “Those are Shiho’s. I don’t want to mess with them until she can look through them herself…”  
  
“Okay, then,” Makoto set the pile back down, reaching for a stack of manga.   
  
“Oh! Wait!” Ann called out. “Th-Those are… those are Ryuji’s.”  
  
Makoto sighed. “Ann, we’re never going to get to the actual cleaning if we can’t move all this stuff out of the way, first.”  
  
“Sorry,” Ann pouted. “It’s just that- y’know- Ryuji practically lives here, and Shiho actually lives here, at least until she gets her degree, so… it’s not often that I get the house all to myself.”  
  
Makoto saw the smoky look in Ann’s eyes. She smiled and shook her head.   
  
“...Ann. You could have just _asked_ …” Makoto purred, looping an arm around Ann’s waist, while Ann reached behind her and pushed the door shut.  
  
~*~


	14. Futaba, Kana, and a Kiss Goodnight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For more on how these two nerdlings got together, check out "Cuddle Bugs", from my series "Where The Lines Overlap"!

~*~  
  
“So when are you gonna get your butt on a train to Tokyo already?”    
  
“Six weeks, Taba. We just need to hold out for six weeks.”   
  
“I don’t  _ wanna _ hold out for six weeks,” Futaba whined, pouting like a child. “I want to  _ see _ you.”   
  
“I know…” Kana cooed into Futaba’s webcam. She pushed her glasses up on her nose, the light of her computer screen glinting off the lenses and settling in the dark, gleaming curls of her hair. She looked a lot like a smaller, fluffier, girlier Akira- a comparison that Futaba had officially forbidden the other Thieves from making, not that it stopped any of them.    
  
Futaba reached up and stretched, stifling a yawn. She curled up on her computer chair, hugging her legs to her chest, blearily resting her head on one knee.    
  
“Kinda tired…” Futaba burbled.    
  
“Then sleep,” Kana said.    
  
“I don’t wanna…” Futaba murmured in protest, but she was already nodding off. She leaned forward in a tell-tale slump..    
  
“Oh, Taba, your glasses…!” Kana called out, before gasping at the sight of Futaba’s hair falling forward and framing her face. Compared to the usual chaos of Futaba on a manic upswing, or the malaise of Futaba on the way back down, she looked… peaceful. Serene.    
  
Beautiful, too, not that Kana would ever be that dramatic.    
  
“Good night, Taba,” Kana whispered. “Whenever I eat oranges, I’ll be thinking of you.”   
  
Futaba snorted, and the illusion of tranquility shattered.   
  
“What?” Futaba asked, vibrating with laughter. “What does that mean?”   
  
Kana’s cheeks went hot. “‘Cuz… ‘cuz orange is my favorite color! Because of you! I- I don’t know! Were you just faking to see if I’d say something weird?”   
  
“You got me,” Futaba grinned, smug.    
  
“Punk,” Kana huffed and pouted, crossing her arms.    
  
Her phone chirped beside her. Kana picked it up, and saw a familiar thumbprint waiting on the screen.    
  
“Sorry,” Futaba said. “Six weeks?”   
  
Kana smiled. “...Six weeks.”   
  
All the way in Osaka, just like Futaba in Tokyo, Kana pressed her thumb against her phone until the screen turned pink- and for a moment, just for a moment, it felt like holding hands.    
  
~*~


	15. Mishima and the Convention

~*~  
  
The logistics of attending an anime convention are hard enough when you’re just going as a guest- so if you’re going as exhibitors, you had better be well prepared.   
  
Mishima stretched both arms above his head, before heaving out a sigh. He pivoted on his heels, studying the sea of boxes filling his bedroom. He took a deep breath, and shot a glance at his desk, where a shock of carrot-red hair was watching him from his webcam.   
  
“Thank you,” Mishima said, grinning. “I never could’ve done this without you, or your extremely detailed references. Are you going to be okay, though? It’s gonna be packed, and I know you don’t do crowds.”  
  
“For fifty percent of the profits and the chance to freak Akira out?” Futaba grinned impishly. “Shit. I’d even give a speech.”  
  
“We just have to make sure he comes to our table,” Mishima fretted.  
  
“Oh, man,” Futaba rubbed her hands together. “Akira’s gonna _scream…”_ _  
_ _  
_When the time came that weekend, Akira didn’t scream- but he did stop in his tracks in the middle of the convention hall. Futaba thought that was close enough.  
  
The table full of ‘Official Phantom Thieves of Hearts merchandise’ wasn’t a surprise. The T-shirts, the flags, the stickers, the pins, the bead charms, the keychains- people loved those. That wasn’t the surprise. The mob of eager phans swarming the table, despite it being three years since the rise and fall of the Phantom Thieves? That wasn’t too surprising either. Futaba, managing to handle such a huge, noisy crowd for the sake of raking in cash? Even that was something Akira could see coming.   
  
What Akira wasn’t prepared for was Mishima in mask, gloves, vest, and coat, _dressed up as him._   
  
“Come one, come all, and come get your official Phantom Thieves of Hearts merch!” Mishima announced to the swarming crowd. “Hold on to your hearts, because these prices are a __steal!”  
  
Mishima met Akira’s eyes, and he grinned, stepping out from behind the booth. His outfit really had an incredible attention to detail- Mishima even had the pointed-toe shoes.  
  
“Mishima…” Akira grinned, all but speechless. “What… what are-”  
  
“I’m the leader of the Phantom Thieves, obviously,” Mishima grinned, reaching behind him to bump his fist against Futaba’s. “Don’t you know I’m his number one phan?”  
  
~*~


	16. Akira, Ann, Ryuji, and Do-It-Yourself Drama

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to [mellofricker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellofricker/pseuds/mellofricker) and [their fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10899048/chapters/25126638) for one of my favorite gags in the P5 fandom- and really, just a fun, feel-good fic in general. Go read it!

~*~  
  
“And… we’re rolling.”    
  
“Good morning~” Ann sang, bursting onto the screen and throwing her arms around Ryuji’s neck from behind. She leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Are you ready for your breakfast, sweetie?”   
  
“I sure am!” Ryuji grinned from his seat at the table. “Whatever it is, it smells great!”   
  
Ann opened up the oven behind her and took out a large plastic pitcher. She set a bowl in front of Ryuji and mimed pouring something into it.    
  
“It’s your favorite cereal!” Ann said, biting her lip. “...I… I don’t know why we’re keeping cereal in the oven…!”   
  
Ryuji snorted, breaking out into a dopey smile. Ann put her arms around him, giggling madly.    
  
“Stay in the scene!” Akira cackled. “Stay in the scene!”   
  
~*~   
  
Ryuji sat back in his computer chair, heaving out a sigh.    
  
“What a day…” Ryuji said, leaning over and clicking on the lamp on his desk. “...I sure wish my _wife_ was here.”   
  
“Aww,” Ann cooed from behind the camera.   
  
Lightning flashed in the dark bedroom, and suddenly, Akira was there, garbed all in black.    
  
“Stick ‘em up!” Akira said, leveling a clearly-marked-with-an-orange-tip prop gun at Ryuji’s chest. “This is a robbery!”   
  
Akira picked up an ottoman and bundled it under his arm. “This is mine now, motherfucker!”   
  
“Fine!” Ryuji said, his lip quivering. “Take my furniture! But you’ll never take… my  _ heart! _ ”   
  
Akira pulled his ski mask up off his face. His hair ruffled in a breeze they could add later. Ryuji gasped in horror. Ann got a good, extra-dramatic zoom-in and close-up on both of them, and reminded herself to pick out a good musical sting to add in post.    
  
~*~   
  
“What the hell is  _ this _ ?!”   
  
Ann yanked the covers off the bed, revealing a scandalized Ryuji and a smug, grinning Akira.    
  
“Oho, so this is what I find, huh?” Ann demanded. “My husband, my ex-husband turned to a life of crime… and do-it-yourself Swedish furniture?!”   
  
_ “Excuse me!” _ came a sharp voice. “Those rooms are for display only!”   
  
“Run!” Akira barked, and they burst in different directions like rats in a kitchen. Akira leapt nimbly out the window. Ryuji fell, the quilt caught around his knees. Ann tripped over a leg of the tripod and sent the camera view clattering to the floor.    
  
“Oh shit!” Ann snorted, giddy.    
  
“The camera! Ann, get the camera!”   
  
“ _ You kids get back here! _ ”   
  
What followed was ten blurry minutes of the trio fleeing down aisles of furniture, cackling like hyenas all the while, with this week’s footage safe in Ann’s hands. They only had two episodes of their amateur soap opera left to film, there were five IKEAs in Japan- and Akira just  _ knew _ they could finish the season finale  _ before _ they got banned from all five.    
  
~*~


	17. Futaba, Akira, and Playing Chicken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's kiss goes hand in hand with another fic of mine, [Girl Talk](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11153928). Come on over and check it out!

~*~  
  
Futaba let out a shuddering sigh, tracing her fingers down the curve of a jaw, her fingertips lingering on barely-parted lips.   
  
“You are so beautiful,” Futaba breathed, before mustering her courage and leaning in…   
  
“Hey, bug,” came a voice. “What’cha doin’ in here?”   
  
“ _Nothing weird!_ ” Futaba shrieked. She tossed her, ahem, favorite bunny pillow over her shoulder, glowering up at the intruder while her pillow smacked old ramen cups and empty soda bottles off her desk. “I-I was just playing chicken, that’s all!”   
  
“Well, I don’t think your pillow’s gonna put up much of a fight,” Akira grinned. “Try me.”   
  
They sat on her bed, staring each other down. Futaba’s heart hammered in her chest. Akira inched closer, and she leaned in, her gaze lingering on the gentle curve of his smile…   
  
Their lips met for an instant- and then Akira abruptly pulled away, and Futaba had to bite her tongue so she wouldn’t whine.   
  
“I’m sorry, what were the rules again?” Akira asked, sheepish. “You’re supposed to make the other person lose their nerve and back down, right?”   
  
“Y-Yeah…” Futaba swallowed. “Nobody won, that time, b-but we can do it over…”   
  
Akira just shrugged, and snickered into Futaba’s mouth when her lips found his again.   
  
She broke away with a gasp, gazing up into Akira’s stormy gray eyes.   
  
“...Best two out of three…?” Futaba asked, panting.   
  
“I’m sorry, Taba,” Akira grinned. “I’m just _so bad_ at this game…”   
  
Futaba cut off Akira’s impish laughter with her mouth over his, capturing his lips and growling into his throat as she shoved him down…   
  
~*~   
  
Futaba jolted awake. She sat up, breathless, pressing the back of her hand against a flushed, feverish cheek. She brushed strands of sweat-slick hair out of her eyes.   
  
“God, that was hot,” she blurted out. She took a deep breath, her heart still pounding in her chest. She sighed and laid back, gazing up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on her ceiling.   
  
Then her brain caught up with her body, and she realized she’d been fantasizing about her _stepbrother_ .   
  
Akira cringed in his seat as Futaba’s mortified scream echoed through the house. He exchanged baffled glances with Sojiro in his armchair and Ryuji on the couch beside him. He got up, knocking on Futaba’s door.   
  
“You okay in there, bug? What happened?”   
  
_“Nothing weird…!”_ Futaba whined, her voice haggard and desperate and _raw_ .   
  
Akira fell back onto the couch with a haunted look in his eyes.   
  
“Let’s leave her alone,” he said, staring blankly ahead. He swallowed. “She’s fine.”   
  
“Dude, are you-”   
  
“She’s _fine_ !”   
  
~*~


	18. Sojiro, Wakaba, and Unsolved Mysteries

~*~  
  
“Don’t you smoke in this house,” she scolded.    
  
Sojiro paused, a cigarette dangling guiltily from his fingers. Wakaba plucked the cigarette from his grasp and raised it to her own lips.    
  
“What a role model,” Sojiro teased. He reached past her to slide open the window, his breath hitching when Wakaba leaned into him ever-so-slightly, his arm lingering against the small of her back.    
  
“Give me a break, Soji,” Wakaba smiled impishly. “It’s been a long week…”   
  
They stood in the kitchen, passing the cigarette between themselves, while the haunting synth of the  _ Unsolved Mysteries _ theme music drifted in from the living room. They could just see the shock of dark hair poking up over the back of the couch.    
  
Sojiro smiled fondly at Wakaba-in-miniature, perched on the edge of her seat.    
  
“She’s really into this stuff, huh?” Sojiro murmured, meeting Wakaba’s eyes sidelong. “UFOs, alien abductions, and all that?”   
  
“It reminds her of her father,” Wakaba explained, suddenly somber. “‘What if aliens took him away?’ she asks me. But there are plenty of boring, petty, and all-too-human reasons for someone not to be around. Sometimes people just leave, and there’s no mystery as to why.”   
  
Sojiro nodded sagely. “...I’m sorry.”   
  
“Don’t be.”   
  
Their eyes met, and a host of feeling flashed between them in a single glance. Gratitude. Sincerity. Devotion...   
  
“Mom,” Futaba called out, peeking over the top of the couch, “is Uncle Soji your  _ boyfriend _ ?”   
  
Sojiro snorted, and just shook his head, smiling.   
  
“Well, now.” Wakaba cooed, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Isn’t  _ that _ a mystery…?”   
  
~*~


	19. Ann and Shiho at the Bakery

~*~  
  
Ann had been draped over Shiho’s shoulders, boneless and limp and still half-asleep, on their entire walk down to the bakery, her untamed mane of wild blonde bedhead bobbing with every step. But when Shiho opened the door, they were met by a wall of warmth and the rich, sweet aroma of freshly-baked pastries. Ann breathed it in as if it were cosmic energy, coming to life in Shiho’s arms. She let out a satisfied sigh and gazed dreamily at the glass-walled display case, filled with a kaleidoscope of fruit, cream, powdered sugar and puff pastry. Excitement glimmered in her eyes.  
  
“Ohhhh, where do I even start?!” Ann squealed, too loud for this early in the morning, Shiho’s knowing grip around her waist the only thing stopping her from slapping her palms against the glass. “The cream bread? The cornets? The cake? The parfaits? Oh, I just want to get _everything_ …!”  
  
“You can get _one_ thing,” Shiho chided.   
  
“For real?!” Ann whined. She slumped over, pouting on Shiho’s shoulder. “Just one? You’re killing me, Shiho. You’re killing your girlfriend.”  
  
Shiho giggled and bumped her head against Ann’s, like a cat. “You can have some of mine…”  
  
Ann held Shiho to her word, moments later, when she took a break from getting powdered sugar and crumbs of puff pastry all over her varsity jacket to wordlessly ask for a bite of Shiho’s parfait. Shiho offered her a spoonful… and then she turned right around and popped it into her own mouth, to Ann’s wide-eyed indignation.   
  
“Just a taste,“ Shiho teased.  
  
Shiho squealed in delight as Ann huffed, grabbed her by the collar, and kissed that smug grin off her lips, still tasting of sweetness and light.   
  
~*~


	20. Akira, Ryuji, and the Truth about Spooning

~*~  
  
“Hey,” Akira said, laying back and staring up at the ceiling. “Unpopular opinion? Spooning kinda sucks.”   
  
“It’s a hug that lasts all night!” Ryuji protested into Akira’s shoulder. “What more do you need?”   
  
“Look, don’t take this the wrong way,” Akira said, rolling over in bed so he was facing Ryuji. “But, like, I get sweaty. And it’s cramped. Shit, sometimes I’ll  _ get _ cramps, in the morning, from having your arm around me all night. Also, you’re, like, really hot.”   
  
“Hell yeah, I am!”   
  
“No, I mean, it’s like cuddling a space heater.”   
  
“Doesn’t sound too bad to me,” Ryuji grumbled, pouting. “If it bothers you so much, why don’t you stay at Ann’s? She’s got a nice queen bed. Convinced her folks to buy it for her ‘cuz she’s, quote, ‘a flailer’. I bet Shiho and Makoto would  _ love _ to have you over.”   
  
Akira’s expression softened. “...Hey, come on. Come here. Come  _ here _ .”   
  
Ryuji made a face, before sidling up behind Akira and putting an arm around his waist.   
  
“Look,” Ryuji muttered into the back of Akira’s neck. “We can switch, if you’re not feelin’ it. Maybe you're a top.”   
  
“Don't you ever call me a top in my own house,” Akira said, arching his back against Ryuji’s chest. “It's fine. I’m cozy.”   
  
“You sure?”    
  
“Yeah,” Akira breathed. He smiled. “...Just remember, if you get a boner, I'll know right away.”   
  
Ryuji rolled his eyes. “Dude…”   
  
~*~


	21. The Ann-ual Contest

~*~  
  
Makoto had a busy week ahead of her. Fall was always a busy season. There were sports meets, culture festivals, and class, class, class. But Makoto pushed through the tedium, endured the slog of midterms in late October, and set her eyes on a bigger prize: Ann Takamaki’s birthday week.   
  
“Alright, ladies,” Makoto began, pacing before her assembled committee, “as the president of the Ann Takamaki Appreciation Club-”   
  
Haru raised a hand over her mouth, stifling giggles. Futaba snorted. “What, did you script this?” she teased.   
  
“Shiho did,” Makoto said, rolling her eyes. Shiho beamed beside her.   
  
“I’m the _founder_ of the Ann Appreciation Club!” Shiho announced with pride.   
  
“Another year, another contest,” Makoto said, nudging them back on track. “I know we’ve held the advantage for quite some time- but we mustn’t get complacent. We’re going to give Ann a birthday week she’s never going to forget! Hands in, everyone!”   
  
Makoto, Shiho, Haru, and Futaba reached in and linked their hands- united in their goal to spoil Ann rotten. Shiho beamed and led the cheer.   
  
“Who run the world?!”   
  
“ **_Girls!_ ** ”   
  
~*~   
  
“Three years…”   
  
Akira mused, sitting on the edge of his bed while Ryuji paced restlessly before him.   
  
“Three years,” Ryuji echoed, scuffing his shoe against the floor. “Three years! Three years of getting fuckin’ bodied!”   
  
“Not this year,” Akira said, lips curling into a manic grin. “This is the one. I can feel it.”   
  
“We’re outnumbered,” Ryuji said. “Yusuke’s off with his art buddies on some vision quest in the woods, and Morgana’s… Morgana.”   
  
“It’s just you and me,” Akira grinned. “What more do we need?”   
  
Akira reached out, and he and Ryuji clasped wrists in a move of manly solidarity right out of a shounen manga.   
  
“Ann better get ready!” Ryuji announced. “The boys are back in town…!”   
  
~*~


	22. Ann's Birthday Week, Day One - Ryuji

_~*~  
  
“One day! She will! Tell you! That she! Has had ENOOOOOOUGH! He’s coming round aga-”_  
  
“Ann!” Sanae called. “Is the music too loud for you, dear?”  
  
“No, it’s okay!” Ann chirped.   
  
“You just sit tight, dearie. Dinner will be ready soon,” Sanae grinned, and turned the stereo back up.   
  
Ann smiled and stretched out on the couch like a cat, letting out a content sigh. Her birthday week had begun not with a bang, or a whimper. If anything, it started with a simmer- like setting the dial on the slow cooker on your way to work. Spending a day at Ryuji’s was comforting in its normalcy, nice and peaceful. Peaceful, but not quiet- never quiet, not with the Sakamotos.   
  
It wasn’t like this at her place. Her parents’ place had always been too big, too quiet, too empty, until Ann took the initiative and started filling the space. Posters. Framed photos. Shiho. Makoto.  
  
Ryuji.   
  
“I’m home!” Ryuji announced, returning from his errands. He made a beeline for the couch, setting a plastic bag on an ottoman already buried in old magazines and unopened mail. He slapped a bank envelope onto Ann’s lap. “Happy birthday,” he grinned, flopping down beside her.  
  
“Aww, Ryuji,” Ann teased, “you mean to tell me your gift wasn’t just me getting to spend all day with you?”  
  
“That’s not your gift either,” Ryuji shrugged. “It’s the 3000 yen I owed you from that trip to the aquarium back in middle school.”  
  
“Oh, yeah? And what about the six years’ worth of interest?”  
  
“Bitch,” Ryuji rolled his eyes, grinning.   
  
“Ryuji!” Sanae called. “You better get your booty in here and pick out a cutting board before I cut that dirty tongue right out of your mouth!”  
  
“Alright, Ma…” Ryuji sighed. He clapped a hand on Ann’s shoulder and made to leave- but Ann’s hand caught his before he could go.   
  
“Ryuji…?” Ann began. A feeling caught in her throat- a melancholy affection, some strange, nostalgic fondness.   
  
Ryuji smiled, sheepish. “...What?”  
  
Ann forgot what she was going to say. Their eyes met- earthy brown and sky blue.  
  
“Ryuji!” Sanae called. Ryuji flashed Ann an apologetic grin.   
  
He ducked into the kitchen, playfully teasing Sanae about her taste in music. Ann watched them both with a warm smile on her face and a strange twinge in her heart, realizing that this, _this_ was how family was supposed to feel.   
  
~*~


	23. Ann's Birthday Week, Day Two - Futaba

~*~  
  
“You two have fun tonight, alright?” Sojiro smiled, laying a hand on Futaba’s hand. “Just not…  _ too _ much fun.”   
  
“Alright, alright, Dad, bye!” Futaba squeaked, shoving Sojiro out the door. Sojiro just shook his head knowingly and flipped the ‘Open’ sign to ‘Closed’. Futaba locked the door, then reached up and pulled down the blinds. Her hands were shaking. She blew out an anxious sigh.   
  
In her belted trenchcoat and heeled boots, Futaba looked like a film noir femme fatale- or maybe someone out of The Matrix, though Akira earned himself a thump on the head when he’d pointed that out. She glanced over her shoulder to the ash-blonde sitting at the counter.    
  
“Thanks for dinner, Futaba,” Ann sighed, patting her stomach. “I couldn’t eat another bite!”   
  
Ann’s eyes flicked over to the half-finished strawberry shortcake sitting on the counter beside her.    
  
“...Well… maybe  _ one _ more slice…”   
  
“Are you ready for your present?” Futaba asked, still facing the door.    
  
Ann blinked. “Was… dinner not my present…?”   
  
Futaba clicked a button on her watch. From somewhere in Leblanc, music started to play…   
  
_ “Hey sista, go sista, soul sista, flow sista…” _   
  
Futaba clicked another button, and hidden lights embedded in the ceiling cast Leblanc in a sultry red glow. She took a deep breath, her nerves alight with a manic audacity. Then she whirled around and threw open her coat, revealing a barely-there bustier and shorts that covered even less.   
  
_ “He met Marmalade down at old Moulin Rouge, struttin’ her stuff on the street…” _ _   
_ _   
_ The aisle became a runway. Futaba channeled all the courage she could muster into workin’ it down the aisle and onto Ann’s lap. She flung her coat off and draped it over Ann’s shoulders, tugging her closer while Ann squealed in delight. Ann got up from her stool, looping her arms around Futaba’s neck and pressing their foreheads together.    
  
Ann’s touch was so electrifying that Futaba’s courage abruptly faltered. She gaped, staring up into Ann’s sky-blue eyes, practically short-circuiting in Ann’s arms. After Ryuji had played it safe and leaned on history and nostalgia for his gift, Futaba had figured she’d come out and swing for the fences… but this… this wasn’t how this was supposed to go...   
  
_ “Voulez vous coucher avec moi, ce soir? Voulez vous coucher avec moi…?” _ _   
_ _   
_ Futaba’s eyes lingered on Ann’s smoky gaze and the fullness of her lips, squeaking when Ann pulled her closer and their chests collided.    
  
_ “P-P-P-Personal space!” _ Futaba shrieked, red as a tomato. Ann smiled, and obligingly pushed Futaba back onto a stool.    
  
The lights were still up, and the music was still going. Ann felt the beat in her step and Futaba’s eyes on her hips- Futaba could have her space, but she was  __ still gonna get a show.   
  
“Dance with me,” Ann purred.    
  
Futaba squeaked, feeling feverish, but she still took Ann’s hand...   
  
~*~


	24. Ann's Birthday Week, Day Three - Akira

~*~  
  
“Ann,” Akira chided, “did you leave Futaba in a sex coma?”  
  
“All we did was _dance_ ,” Ann said, rolling her eyes. “Like _you’ve_ never had any dance parties before.”  
  
They were cleaning up Ann’s living room- well, Akira was cleaning. Ann was draped bonelessly across the couch, like a cat basking in the sun. Akira walked the length of the mantelpiece, feather duster in hand, taking in the history of the Takamaki family, framed for all to see.  
  
It was amusing, seeing Ann and her twintails across the years- a hairstyle that, apparently, never fell out of fashion. But Akira also noticed that, as Ann got older, her pictures became solo portraits- school photos, or official prints from the modeling agency. There was a stiff, posed shot of her and her parents at her middle school graduation. After that? Nothing.  
  
Akira’s lips twitched into a frown. He cleared his throat. “So, Ann, are you just gonna lounge around all day, or do you want your gift?”  
  
Ann sprang upright. “Ooh! Gimme!”  
  
Akira smiled and nodded. “It’s in my bag.”  
  
He lied. The rolled-up poster Ann retrieved from his messenger bag was not Ann’s real gift. But the painstakingly-edited poster of the Phantom Thieves posing together like they were on an album cover _was_ good for a few laughs while Akira snuck something onto the mantelpiece.  
  
Akira hated to admit this, because he hated playing favorites, but out of all the Thieves, he was probably closest to Ann and Ryuji. If he had the two of them, he could do anything. They hadn’t grown up together. But they could have. In another time, in another life, they could have been Ann and her brothers, the boys next door. Like Destiny Islands, Futaba had said, when Akira told her about this idea, shortly before getting thumped on the head.  
  
Akira smiled, and left Ann’s surprise on the mantelpiece, hidden in plain sight- a framed photo-edit of himself, Ann, and Ryuji, as children, smiling for the camera, just three kids against the world.  
  
~*~


	25. Ann's Birthday Week, Day Four - Haru and Makoto

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's imagery brought to you by Kamen Rider and "Jenny" by Studio Killers. Enjoy!

~*~  
  
Ann and Haru had a knack for catching each other off guard with grand romantic displays. For instance, when Ann said Haru’s hair looked nice, and a flustered Haru immediately offered to pay Ann’s student loans. Or when Haru showed Ann her walk-in closet filled with expensive clothes, and Ann almost proposed on the spot. But this…   
  
“Haru,” Ann said gravely, her hands on Haru’s shoulders. “Honey. I need you to tell me that you didn’t buy me a _motorcycle_.”  
  
“You never let me do anything _nice_ for you!” Haru huffed, and pouted.   
  
“Haru, I can’t possibly accept such an expensive gift!” Ann protested. She continued, sheepish. “...And, not to sound ungrateful, but I, uh… don’t know how to drive a motorcycle.”  
  
“Not yet,” Makoto said, sidling up beside her.   
  
Ann’s eyes wandered up Makoto’s boots, jacket, and scarf, before settling on the curve of her lips and the daring glint in her crimson eyes. Ann grinned, and took the helmet from Makoto’s hands.   
  
The sun rose over Tokyo Bay, the light glittering off the waves. It was the same view that Ryuji and Shiho saw every day, on their morning run that Ann was never awake to join- but that couldn’t compare to riding along the shore, her arms around Makoto’s waist, her new bike purring beneath them.   
  
Ann held Makoto tighter and pressed her cheek into Makoto’s back, her body thrumming with adrenaline and an unbearable fondness. Ann gazed out over the picturesque sky, painted pink and gold by the rising sun, filling her heart with wonder.   
  
She could see it now- her, Makoto, and the sun on the horizon. Like Bonnie and Clyde, if they’d had a mysteriously wealthy and oh-so-elegant benefactor. Ann didn’t actually harbor any secret thoughts of elopement and turning to a life of crime- she was too tied to Tokyo, too tightly woven into the knot of relationships that was the Phantom Thieves and their inner circle for her to just leave it all behind. But seeing Makoto like this, riding like a pro, her scarf flying like a comet in the breeze…  
  
Ann snorted abruptly, stifling giggles.   
  
“What?” Makoto asked, amused.   
  
“You know what they should call you?” Ann mused. “‘Kitty Rider’.”  
  
“You and your costumed heroes,” Makoto muttered with the utmost fondness, Ann’s laughter mixing with the revving engine in a rumbling purr that set her body alight.  
  
~*~


	26. Ann's Birthday Week, Day Five - Shiho

~*~  
  
Technically, students weren’t allowed on the roof of Shujin Academy. Ann and Shiho, technically, weren’t students. And all it took was a smile and a wink from Ann for Ms. Kawakami to let them up there for an impromptu ‘alumni meeting’- just the two of them, gazing out across the city.   
  
It was a crisp autumn day, the wind bearing the first chills of winter. Shiho gasped and Ann instinctively pulled her closer, looping an arm around the small of her back.   
  
“You okay?” Ann asked.   
  
“Yeah,” Shiho smiled, nuzzling into Ann’s varsity jacket. Shiho herself was wearing her favorite hoodie- white, with a four-leaf clover. “I’m cozy.”   
  
They stood together for a long moment, their view of the city spoiled only by the chain-link fence lining the roof. Shiho wandered forward and curled her fingers through the links. She took a deep breath, and sighed.   
  
“...Do you remember that time I got kidnapped?”   
  
“That line’s not as romantic as you think it is,” Ann teased. “But yeah. How could I forget?”   
  
“Sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened if I hadn’t been,” Shiho continued, her eyes distant, pensive. “If you’d never come to save me, if I never got pulled in to your circle, Akira’s circle… would you still have told me? Or would the secret have kept us apart?”   
  
“Of course I would have,” Ann said. “I was on my way to do it the night he took you. I went to the gift shop Ryuji told me about, and everything.”   
  
“Mm,” Shiho nodded. “Still. Sometimes I wonder… if I’d moved away, and never known about your double life… if we would still…”   
  
“Shiho, stop,” Ann urged. “I’m here. We’re here.”   
  
“Three years ago… almost four, now… I stood here, on this rooftop, and I told you I loved you,” Shiho murmured. “It wasn’t the first time I’d said it. But it was the first time I meant it, in that way… and I don’t know if I would have realized that, or had the courage to say it, if it weren’t for the hospital, if it weren’t for…”   
  
Shiho trailed off, and sighed. “I know this is going to sound strange. That was a very difficult time for me, for both of us. But with all the good that came afterward… sometimes, I’m glad I jumped.”   
  
Ann opened her mouth, closed it. “Just don’t do it again,” she said, aiming for levity and falling short with a wince.   
  
Shiho didn’t jump. She turned, and held Ann’s hand in both of her own, gazing into her sky-blue eyes.     
  
Then she got down on one knee.   
  
Ann clutched her chest, her eyes wet. “Shiho…?!”   
  
“Ann, now that we’re here again, on this rooftop…” Shiho smiled. “...there’s something else I want to tell you.”   
  
Ann squealed, and bit her fist so she wouldn’t scream. She nodded, blinking back tears. She gazed deeply into Shiho’s gentle, chestnut eyes.   
  
“...Your shoe’s untied.”   
  
“OH MY GOD!!!” Ann screamed. “Shiho!”   
  
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Shiho snorted with laughter. “I couldn’t resist! Do you still want your present, or…?”   
  
“I can’t believe you!” Ann huffed and crossed her arms, pouting like no tomorrow. She glanced at the jewelry box Shiho slipped out of her hoodie, and hesitated. “...Okay, yeah, I _do_ still want it…”   
  
Shiho stifled her giggling, and slowly, reverently, slipped a silver charm bracelet onto Ann’s wrist, a single, silver cat with ruby eyes hanging from the chain.   
  
“This is my promise to you,” Shiho said gently, the teasing note vanishing from her voice. “There’s only one charm, now. But every year, I’m going to give you a new one. And one day, once it’s full… well, maybe then I’ll see about getting you that ring.”   
  
“Oh, Shiho…” Ann cooed. “This isn’t fair! I need to get you one, too. Yours will be gold. The first charm will be a heart. I’m gonna get it inscribed, and do you know what that inscription’s gonna say?”   
  
“What?”   
  
“Hashtag Legalize It.”

Shiho snorted out a laugh. Ann yanked her into her arms, and they clung together, swaying and suffused with warmth despite the autumn chill.   
  
They were adults now, with adult worries. But for a moment on that rooftop, they were kids again- two schoolgirls in love, exchanging charm bracelets and looking to the future, their little fingers linked in a promise.   
  
~*~


	27. Ann's Birthday Week - Finale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one goes out to [ThaddeusBandido](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThaddeusBandido), who suggested, all the way back in the comments to [Cuddle Bugs](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11565744), where the boys should bring Ann for her birthday. They finally made it! I hope you all enjoy!

~*~  
  
Ann was in paradise.   
  
It was as if she’d died and went to heaven, and when she got there, she discovered that the clouds were not clouds at all, but little balls of fluff and fur and bright blue eyes. It turned out, heaven looked a lot like the playroom at the cat cafe, where Ann was sprawled out on the carpet, practically drowning in kittens. She mewed and cooed and purred to her heart’s content, as curious cats clambered over her legs, her arms, bumped their heads against hers or nestled in her hair.    
  
“She looks right at home,” Shiho mused, Ryuji’s arm around her shoulders. “Maybe someday she’ll love Morgana like that.”   
  
“He wishes,” Ryuji snorted. “They’re cuter when they can’t talk.”   
  
The rest of the Ann Takamaki Appreciation Club were scattered throughout the cafe; Haru, having a polite conversation with a cat, to Makoto’s quiet amusement; Akira, stealthily pursuing a black cat who was playing hard to get; and Futaba, in the booth with Shiho and Ryuji, flicking through the menu and sending Yusuke pictures of everything he was missing while he was searching for his artistic vision at art camp, or wherever.    
  
“Hate to break it to you, jerk,” Futaba said, glancing up at Ryuji with an impish grin. “But this year? Girls’ Team’s got this in the bag.”   
  
“Not so fast, nerdling,” Ryuji fired back. “Cat cafe was the guys’ idea. I think this year’s gonna be our year.”   
  
“That’s big talk from a team who only gave Ann a poster and dinner with your mom!”   
  
“You leave my mom outta this! Besides, what’d  _ you _ get her? A lapdance and a panic attack?”   
  
“ _ She wasn’t supposed to seduce me back, okay?! _ ”   
  
“Guys, guys,” Shiho cut in, giggling. “Keep it down. You’re going to get us thrown out before we even get our food.”   
  
“More like get it up and get in here, everyone!” Ann sang. “I have an announcement to make!”   
  
The Club gathered around the table, Ann commanding the spotlight with practiced grace.    
  
“Well, everyone, it’s been an amazing week,” Ann said, beaming. “The fourth annual competition is coming to a close, and now, I’m at a loss- because I have to pick a winner, but no matter who I pick, I’ve already won, by having the best friends a girl can ask for.”   
  
There was a general chorus of “aww”s.    
  
“Gay!” Futaba coughed. Akira thumped her on the head and she squeaked in indignation.    
  
“Now, let’s recap,” Ann said, clapping her hands together. “Boys? You were outnumbered. You were the underdogs this year-”   
  
“Every year,” Akira shrugged.    
  
“-and everybody loves an underdog story,” Ann continued. “Ryuji started out strong. He knows the way to my heart is through my stomach.”   
  
“That’s right!” Ryuji said, puffing out his chest. “And I don’t cook for just anybody, believe me!”   
  
“But then on Tuesday, Futaba came out swinging,” Ann grinned. “Didn’t you?”   
  
Futaba abruptly turned red and sank into her seat.    
  
“That’s gay,” Akira muttered in Futaba’s ear. She bonked their foreheads together.   
  
“Akira gave me a sweet poster of us as, like, a band, but his real gift was spending all Wednesday cleaning my house,” Ann continued. “Then, there was Makoto and Haru with the Kitty Rider-”   
  
“Are we really sticking with that?” Makoto murmured.    
  
“-a very generous gift,” Ann said. “Um. Maybe even  _ too _ generous.”   
  
“Yeah, can we institute, like, a value limit or something?” Ryuji complained. “Haru bought you a fuckin’ motorcycle! How are we humble members of the proletariat supposed to compete with  _ that _ ?”   
  
“Who taught you a word like ‘proletariat’?” Shiho teased. She giggled as Ryuji dug an elbow into her stomach.    
  
“Nonsense!” Haru chimed in. “Despite your ongoing protestations, I’ll spare no expense when it comes to you all, least of all my princess!”   
  
“Gay!” Akira and Futaba chorused, their corner of the booth promptly devolving into a tickle fight.    
  
“Don’t worry, Ann,” Makoto said, reaching in and prying them apart like a weary mother. “You and I can take a look at that lease.”   
  
Ann nodded. She turned, and broke out into a broad smile. “And then Shiho… well. Do I even need to say it?”   
  
She lifted up her silver charm bracelet, the ruby cat’s-eyes glinting in the light.    
  
“No fair,” Akira said. “Shiho didn’t give you a gift. She straight-up proposed!”   
  
Shiho laughed, sheepish. “Well… it’s not like we can actually get married… not for a few years, at least…”   
  
“Hashtag legalize it,” Futaba said, deadpan.    
  
“...And now, here we are,” Ann said, slapping her palms on the table and leaning forward. “We’re here, at this incredible cat cafe- points to the boys’ team-”   
  
“Boom,” Ryuji said. He and Akira bumped fists.    
  
“...and now, I can announce the winner of this year’s contest!” Ann chirped. “Every one of you gave it your all this week. Even Yusuke, who’s still on his… what was it? An artistic retreat?”   
  
“He’s in the woods with a bunch of art students,” Akira shrugged. “I bet they’re high.”   
  
“I bet they’re fucking,” Futaba said.    
  
“Shh!” Shiho hissed. “Ann’s about to tell us that I won!”   
  
Ann smiled playfully.    
  
“Sorry, babe,” Ann began.    
  
Akira and Ryuji both sucked in a breath.    
  
“The winner of this year’s guys vs. girls birthday beat-em-up, is… a tie!”   
  
“What?!” Ryuji gasped.    
  
“WHAT?!” Futaba shrieked.    
  
“The guys had a strong showing this year!” Ann explained. “They had a sound strategy… they knew they were outnumbered, so instead of going flashy, they went sentimental… and, well…”   
  
“Oh, Ann, a  _ tie _ …?” Akira wondered, strangely calm.    
  
“We were so close!” Ryuji fumed.    
  
“I’m sorry…” Ann cooed. “It’s just… I love you. All of you. How am I supposed to choose…?”   
  
Ryuji sulked. Makoto reached over and patted him on the arm.    
  
“Hey. Good game, huh?” Makoto smiled gently. She offered her hand.    
  
Ryuji sighed. He made to shake Makoto’s hand-   
  
Ann’s fist slammed into Ryuji’s chest and he grunted. Ann was screeching with excitement, fanning herself frantically with the hand that wasn’t currently planted in Ryuji’s chest.    
  
“Who’s the lucky birthday girl?” Their waitress chirped, emerging from the kitchen.    
  
“I am!” Ann squealed.    
  
“Here you go! One Preposterous Princess Parfait!”   
  
There was a loud thunk on their table, and suddenly, Ann was face to face with a veritable pastel pink mountain of fruit, yogurt, cookies, and cream. Ann accepted a spoon from their waitress as if she were receiving an engagement ring, and she sat back in her seat, gazing up at the fittingly preposterous dessert with stars in her eyes.    
  
Ann was speechless with anticipation. Futaba and Akira were snickering wildly at Ann’s single-minded devotion to sweets. Somewhere on the other side of the parfait, Haru and Makoto were, too. Ann took a spoonful and practically screamed.    
  
“So _good~!_ ” Ann whined, with borderline X-rated bliss.    
  
Ryuji just shook his head and smiled with a weary, knowing fondness. He turned, and saw Shiho nuzzling into his shoulder.    
  
“Is she serious?” Ryuji teased. “She’s crying.”   
  
“Maybe someday she’ll love  _ us _ like that,” Shiho mused.    
  
“Maybe,” Ryuji grinned, and gave Shiho a squeeze. “But hey. Sharing second isn’t so bad.”   
  
~*~


	28. Yusuke, Ann, Ryuji, and Shared Habits

~*~  
  
It was amazing how similar Ann and Ryuji looked when they were both eyeing you with dubious scorn. Leaning forward in silent accusation, fixing you in crosshairs with their intent gaze… really, it just served to prove Yusuke’s point.    
  
“Listen,” Yusuke said, glancing at them sidelong before returning to his canvas. “All I am saying is that when two people have known each other for as long as you have, you tend to pick up each other’s habits.”   
  
“Ugh,” Ann and Ryuji scoffed, in unison. They glanced at each other. “Ugh!”   
  
“I think it’s sweet, in a way,” Yusuke continued. “You could be siblings.”   
  
“Eww!” Ann cried. “Why would I want to be related to Ryuji?”   
  
“Oh,  _ thanks! _ ”   
  
“A sibling sentiment if ever there was one,” Yusuke said, nonchalantly taking a sip from his mug. He cringed, before reaching for his table and exchanging his mug for the one that wasn’t filled with paint water. He cleared his throat. “Trust me. As an artist, my powers of observation are without peer.”   
  
“Whatever you say, buddy,” Ryuji said, one hand on his hip, the other waving the thought away almost as if he were twirling a twintail.    
  
“Seriously,” Ann snickered, bumping an elbow against Ryuji’s. “Is this guy for real…?”   
  
~*~


	29. Ann, Yusuke, and a Tie-Breaker

~*~  
  
“So!” Ann beamed. “How was your trip?”  
  
“In a word: enlightening,” Yusuke smiled. He crossed his legs primly on Ann’s couch, his portfolio resting beside him. When Ann emerged from the kitchen offering plastic cups of either iced tea or potato sticks, Yusuke gratefully took the potato sticks. He loved Jagariko.  
  
“I’m afraid you must forgive me for missing the festivities,” Yusuke said, dipping his head in apology. “I hear this year was one to remember.”  
  
“Every year’s a good year with you guys,” Ann chirped.  
  
“Well, allow me to show you what I’d worked on over my retreat,” Yusuke said, gingerly lifting a canvas out of his portfolio and presenting it to Ann as if it were a silver platter.  
  
Ann gasped, always eager to glimpse a Kitagawa original. This one was a painting of a girl in a red dress on a swing, her pigtails flying in the breeze. It was a vivid recreation of Jean-Honore Fragonard’s 18th-century masterpiece _The Swing_ \- except the girl in the painting was unmistakably, undeniably Ann.  
  
“Oh… Oh, Yusuke, it’s _beautiful_ …” Ann murmured.  
  
Yusuke preened, a hand to his chest. “I know I am known for my more, ah, abstract work. So it was an amusing change of pace to attempt so direct an homage. You, ah, you like it, I trust?”  
  
“It’s going up!” Ann announced. “It’s gotta go up! I just have to find somewhere… maybe here, right over the fireplace! I just gotta set up a mounting… here, hold this for a sec?”  
  
Yusuke obligingly took the canvas and waited as Ann went rummaging for a proper wall mount. He chuckled, amused at Ann’s singleminded focus, his gaze flitting idly across the framed photos on her mantelpiece. He blinked.  
  
“What’s this…?”  
  
Yusuke lifted up a framed photo, and smiled.  
  
“Hm. Well, _there’s_ something to cherish…”  
  
Behind him, Ann gasped, a hand over her mouth.  
  
~*~  
  
Akira’s phone chirped. It was on the corner of his bed, and he made grabby hands towards it, just out of reach. Ryuji rolled his eyes and answered it for him.  
  
“Yo, what’s up?” Ryuji asked.  
  
He sat up sharply, his eyebrows furrowed with concern. “...Hey. Are you okay? You sound like you’re crying…”  
  
_“You win.”_  
  
“What?”  
  
_“I found the photo,”_ Ann sniffled. _“You guys win this year.”_  
  
Ryuji broke out into a huge, dopey grin. His eyes met Akira’s, the two of them smiling like jackals, and together, they started to shout.  
  
~*~


	30. Ann, Mika, and Hate at First Sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been awhile, hasn't it? Sorry to keep you waiting!
> 
> Today's kiss is best enjoyed while listening to "What is This Feeling?" from Wicked. Enjoy!

~*~  
  
“Ann? Ann _Takamaki_ ?”   
  
Ann froze, an island in a sea of college freshmen. She grit her teeth, took a deep breath, and put on a practiced smile before turning to the woman in blue calling to her from down the hall.   
  
“Mika! Long time no see!”   
  
Mika parted the throng of students and strode up to Ann as if the world was her runway. She smiled, flipping her hair.   
  
“Look at you,” Mika purred, her eyes taking in Ann’s form with an intense, predatory gaze.. “I take it you’re here for orientation? A prestigious academy for the performing arts… that’s unexpected, for you.”   
  
Ann matched Mika’s pace, the two of them circling one another like a pair of jungle cats. “I could say the same,” Ann said.   
  
“Well,” Mika smiled thinly, “this was my _safety_ school.”   
  
“So which school didn’t you make the cut for?”   
  
Mika whirled around, narrowing her eyes at the new challenger. Shiho met her gaze, unafraid.   
  
“You must be Shino,” Mika said sweetly.   
  
“That’s ‘Shiho’,” Ann said icily.   
  
“Right, right…” Mika said. “I’ve heard so much. Good things, of course.”   
  
“Of course,” Shiho echoed.   
  
Mika took in Shiho’s form with an appraising eye. She took a leaflet out of her purse and handed it to Ann.   
  
“I’m hosting a little get-together here on campus,” Mika said. “You’re invited, of course. I do hope you’ll attend. It’ll give us the chance to have a drink, catch up… maybe even meet someone special.”   
  
“We’ll be there,” Ann said, forcing a smile. “And it was nice to run into you, too, Mika. I always thought I’d see you again.”   
  
~*~   
  
“Man, I _never_ thought I’d see that bitch again!” Ann groaned, guzzling the last of her iced tea as if she were pounding back a shot. “She’s just as insufferable as she was back in high school!”   
  
“I dunno, I kinda like her,” Shiho shrugged. “If nothing else, she’s certainly got her ‘baddest bitch’ walk down perfectly.”   
  
“I hate her!” Ann seethed. “I still remember the first time we met. I swear, it was like something out of an anime. Our eyes met across the set, and I swear, there was this, like, electricity between us. My face got all flushed… my pulse went up… suddenly, it got so hard to breathe…”   
  
Shiho glanced from side to side, wondering if Ann could hear herself. Ann shuddered, tugging at her collar.   
  
“...she was so… she was so damn _perfect!_ ” Ann snapped, spiking her empty bottle into the garbage so hard it almost bounced back out. “I just wanted to smush her stupid, gorgeous face!”   
  
Ann stood there, seething, clenching her fists, apparently unaware of just how gay this all sounded. Shiho gave her a knowing look.   
  
“...So you’re going to her party?”   
  
“ _We’re_ going to her party,” Ann said, breaking into an impish smile. “And I’m gonna show her who’s on top, once and for all!”   
  
~*~


	31. Ann, Shiho, and Mika's Mixer - Part One

~*~  
  
“Wow,” Shiho said, gazing up at blazing neon bar-front. “This place isn’t half-bad.”   
  
“Hm,” Ann frowned, wrinkling her brow in suspicion. “So, at least she didn’t give us a leaflet with a fake address…”   
  
“Ann,” Shiho chided, “are you going to at least _ try _ to have some fun tonight?”   
  
“We’re not here to have fun,” Ann reminded her. “We’re here to show Mika who’s on top.”   
  
“Do you have to phrase it that way every time?”   
  
They stepped inside. Mika was already waiting with a table for eight. She sprang up in her seat and waved, before coming over and pulling Ann and Shiho into chaste girl-hugs. Mika gave them both obnoxiously loud cheek kisses, which Ann reciprocated just as loudly, and Shiho just quietly tolerated.    
  
“You’re right on time!” Mika chirped, digging a conspiratorial elbow into Shiho’s side. “She wasn’t always so punctual, you know.”   
  
“Is that so…?” Shiho muttered, while Ann silently gagged over Mika’s shoulder.    
  
“And it looks like the first of the guys is here!” Mika said brightly, crossing over the door and greeting the newcomer with a coquettish nod. “Say hello!”   
  
Mishima smiled sheepishly and put a hand behind his head. “H-Hey, guys…!”   
  
“Ladies, this is Yuuki- can I call you Yuuki? And he’s single, just like all of us!” Mika said brightly.    
  
“Y-Yeah…” Mishima blinked. “...but, um. Aren’t you two-”   
  
Shiho screwed her eyes shut, silently willing Mishima not to out her and Ann in front of Ann’s co-worker who may or may not hate her. Ann, lacking Shiho’s subtlety and psychic powers, settled for a death glare. Mishima got the point.    
  
“....warm?” Mishima finished lamely. “You’re still wearing your coats.”   
  
“O-Oh, yeah...” Ann and Shiho mumbled, sharing a glance.    
  
Mika looked up from her phone, covering a split-second scowl with a practiced smile. “We’re not all here yet, but I don’t think anyone will mind if we get settled. Does everyone know what they want to drink?”   
  
Their drinks arrived, non-alcoholic save for Mika’s, who noted with pride that she was the only one at the table of drinking age. The evening ambled by at a languid pace. Despite everything, Ann found herself having fun…    
  
Or she would be, if she wasn’t waiting for the pin to drop.    
  
Mika’s phone buzzed and she excused herself from the table. As soon as she was out of sight, Shiho dug her elbow into Ann’s side.    
  
“You know, she’s actually kind of nice,” Shiho whispered.   
  
“No, she’s not,” Ann insisted. “She’s planning something! She’s a conniving, two-faced little-”   
  
“Hey, hey, whoa,” Mishima protested. “I know Mika’s kinda, I guess, loud and in-your-face? But she’s nice when you get to know her.”   
  
“How do you even  _ know _ Mika, Mishima?” Ann demanded.    
  
“I dunno, we have a few classes together? How do  _ you _ know her? And- And why are we whispering?”   
  
Ann sighed and rolled her eyes. “Listen. Shiho and I are neither straight nor single, and Mika can’t know about either of those, got it? Tonight, Mishima, you’re on beard duty. Find it in your little gay heart to have some chemistry with one of us. Can you do that?”   
  
Mishima made an ‘I’m-getting-dragged-into-a-zany-scheme’ face. “...I mean. I’ll  _ try _ .”   
  
“Oooh, this’ll be fun!” Shiho clapped her hands. “Look, I’ll give it a shot.”   
  
Shiho cleared her throat, and then leaned in, coyly leaning her chin on her hands and meeting Mishima’s gaze.    
  
“So, how long have you been taking Algebra? ...Handsome?”   
  
Ann buried her head in her hands as Shiho and Mishima dissolved into a giggle fit beside her. She sighed, catching sight of Mika in her gorgeous blue dress- because that was what you wore to a casual singles’ mixer, right? Mika always had to show her up, always had to be just that little bit more…   
  
Mika rounded the corner, blowing out a sigh and slipping her phone back in her pocket. She looked up, and met Ann’s eyes across the room. An electric thrill of conflict, of competition, flashed through Ann’s veins.    
  
Mika was up to something. Ann just knew it.    
  
~*~


	32. Ann, Shiho, and Mika's Mixer - Part Two

_~*~_   
  
Talking with Mika was proving to be… surprisingly tolerable. Ann just couldn’t understand it. She’d already made it a whole hour with Mika without wanting to gag. As the night ambled on, Ann almost found herself enjoying herself. Almost. Mika almost looked like she was having fun, too- but there was a twitch in her face, a wobble in her smile, that captured Ann’s suspicions and wouldn’t let go.    
  
“It seems the rest of our group is determined to be fashionably late,” Mika said idly, resting her chin in her hand. Her phone chirped, and she sighed. “Excuse me.”   
  
Mika stepped away to make a phone call. As soon as she rounded the corner, Ann, Shiho and Mishima were back in The Huddle.    
  
“Alright,  _ something’s _ up with Mika,” Ann said.    
  
“I think she’s just stressed,” Mishima offered.    
  
“I think she’s planning something!” Ann insisted.    
  
“ _ I _ think you’re being ridiculous!” Shiho huffed, throwing up her arms. “I think you and Mika met at a very volatile time of your life. First in modeling, now in acting… I think you’re both too couched in industries that routinely pit women against each other, and that’s got your brain all fucky!”   
  
Mishima blinked, puzzled. “Since when do you say ‘f-”   
  
“ _ I _ think you’re overthinking this rivalry,” Shiho pressed. “I think if you spent more time with Mika that  _ wasn’t _ in front of a camera, you two would get along just fine.”   
  
“‘Get along’? Shiho, she hates me! And- And I hate her!”   
  
“Listen to yourself, and then tell me if you believe that,” Shiho snapped.    
  
Mishima squirmed, uncomfortable. There was an ice in Shiho’s voice he’d never heard before.    
  
A dreadful quiet lingered between Ann and Shiho. Eventually, Shiho exhaled, slung her purse over her shoulder and scraped her chair back.    
  
“Wh-Where are you going?” Mishima wondered, worried at the prospect of being left alone with a stewing Ann.    
  
“To make a phone call,” Shiho murmured, stalking away.    
  
~*~   
  
Shiho looked at herself in the bathroom mirror, clutching the edge of the sink with tense fingers. A stray lock of hair had wriggled its way out of her ponytail. She blew it out of her face with an irritated breath.    
  
She knew the look in Ann’s eyes when she wouldn’t back down. Ann was stubborn, famously so. That single-minded determination had saved Shiho from a fallen angel, once upon a time. It was easy to fall in love with that kind of conviction.    
  
It was hard, being on the other side.    
  
Shiho was halfway through a text to Ryuji about the pitfalls of hardheadedness when she first heard it- a shuddering gasp. Shiho turned away from the sink, spotting a familiar pair of suede heeled boots. She’d thought they looked nice; she hadn’t said so, for fear of Ann scolding her for complimenting ‘the enemy’.    
  
“Mika?” Shiho ventured.    
  
Immediately, the boots vanished from under the stall. Hugged up to her chest, no doubt. This was hardly Shiho’s first game of hide and seek.    
  
“Mika?” Shiho tried again.    
  
A sniffle. Then: “Is that you, Shino?”   
  
Shiho fought the urge to roll her eyes.    
  
“It’s ‘Shiho’,” she said, with a gentleness and patience that surprised even herself. “Can we talk?”   
  
~*~


	33. Ann, Shiho, and Mika's Mixer - Part Three

~*~  
  
If there was anything Ann, Shiho, and Mika all had in common, it was that when they put their minds to something, none of them backed down.    
  
That was how Mika stubbornly refused to come out of her bathroom stall; how Shiho went back to the table, apologized to a puzzled Mishima, and marched Ann right back to the bathroom; and how Ann wound up leaning against the sink, her arms crossed around her chest, staring down the door to Mika’s stall while Shiho lingered nearby like she was a referee.   
  
Mika cracked first. She took a deep breath and heaved a sigh, swinging the door open with a bang.    
  
“Ann,” Mika said levelly, though her eyes were still red. “Why are you here.”   
  
Ann bristled. “You _ invited _ me!”   
  
“No, I mean, why are you here, in this room?”   
  
Ann hesitated. ‘Because Shiho told me to’ didn’t seem like the right thing to say.    
  
Mika sighed. She caught Ann’s gaze, her eyes flinty and hard. There was a curtness, a sternness to her demeanor- a far cry from the flighty, chipper girl she’d been out in the bar.    
  
“Ann,” Mika began warily. “Did you come here just to humiliate me?”   
  
Ann blinked. “What? What are you-”   
  
“Oh, please!” Mika snapped. “I see you for the first time in years, and you just have to rub it in my face, don’t you? You just have to show me up!”   
  
“Show you up?!” Ann huffed. “ _ You’re _ the one who wore a goddamn dress and pearls to a campus bar!”   
  
“Well, look at you!” Mika shot back. “I have to  _ work _ to look this good. You! You don’t need a designer label to prop you up. You don’t even have to try! You could’ve come here in a hoodie and ripped jeans! You’d look gorgeous in a burlap sack!”   
  
Ann screwed up her face, unsure how to reply to the sort-of compliment.    
  
“Tell me, Takamaki,” Mika said, and the switch to her last name stung in a way that Ann couldn’t quite explain. “Did you get a scholarship? Did you take out a loan? Or is Mommy and Daddy’s fall fashion line putting you through college?”   
  
Ann swallowed hard. Mika sneered.    
  
“It all comes easy to you, doesn’t it?” Mika muttered acidly. “Your looks. Your career. ...Even love.”   
  
Ann’s eyes flicked instinctively towards Shiho. “I don’t- I don’t know what you’re talking about.”   
  
“Oh, please…” Mika rolled her eyes. “You’re a remarkable girl, Ann. But you’re a  _ terrible _ actress.”   
  
And just like that, all the fight seemed to leave Mika’s body. She sighed, glum, running a hand through her hair.    
  
“...Not that I can talk, though. Here I am, acting like I’m the queen bee on campus, and I can’t even get anybody to attend my own party. I just wish I knew…” Mika scowled, and trailed off.    
  
“What is it?” Shiho asked gently.    
  
“Why?” Mika asked, her voice very small. “Why do you hate me? What did I ever do to you?”   
  
“Um? How about when you made me late to a bunch of photo shoots, so you could swoop in and save the day?”    
  
Mika smiled, but it was a pained smile. “...Okay, yeah, that was kind of shitty.”   
  
“And, I dunno…” Ann shrugged, her expression softening. “...I just… thought the feeling was mutual.”   
  
Mika nodded, saying nothing. Ann bit her lip.    
  
“You’re wrong about me,” Ann said. “I’m a  _ great _ actress. And just ‘cuz I make it look easy, that doesn’t mean I don’t put in the work. And that doesn’t make the work  _ you _ put in matter any less.”   
  
A long moment passed between them, one with a semblance of warmth. Shiho cleared her throat and stepped forward.    
  
“We should get back,” she said. “We’re helping Mishima set some kind of record, getting stood up by three girls all at once…”   
  
Mika nodded, and made to step out- before catching a glimpse of her reflection above the sink. She stopped in her tracks, scowling, poking at the redness under her eyes.    
  
“Here,” Ann said. Mika looked up, and saw Ann’s compact in her hands. It wasn’t quite an olive branch. But it would do.    
  
“Thanks,” Mika said, accepting Ann’s compact and clicking it open. “Do you have any concealer?”   
  
“Oh, Mika…” Ann said with something approaching a smile. She pulled open her purse. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”   
  
~*~   
  
The rest of the evening was filled with stories- from work, from school, even from the Metaverse, although those accounts were quietly sanitized so as not to be too damning. Mishima left early- he had class first thing in the morning, a decision he was already regretting- while Ann, Shiho, and Mika talked the night away. Really, Ann and Mika did most of the talking- Shiho sat, and listened, and nodded when Ann glanced at her, trying not to look too proud of herself for getting this ball rolling.    
  
“Typical,” Mika mused, her chin in her hand. “I host a mixer so we can meet some new people, and then it just turns into a night with the girls.”   
  
“Foreshadowing,” Shiho said sagely, giggling when Ann dug an elbow into her side.    
  
They lingered by the door, coats over their arms, as the bar staff wiped down their table and started putting up the chairs. Shiho stepped away to answer a string of all-caps drunk texts from Akira and Ryuji, giving Ann and Mika a moment to themselves.    
  
“We should do this again,” Mika murmured, watching the bar staff close up.    
  
“Yeah,” Ann said quietly. “Mika?”   
  
“Yes?”   
  
Ann exhaled. “...I don’t hate you.”   
  
Mika turned, meeting Ann’s vivid, sky-blue eyes.    
  
“I, um…” Mika bit her lip. “...I don’t hate you, too.”   
  
Ann smiled. “..Good.”   
  
Mika nodded. “Good.”   
  
Ann waved, and set off down the street, Shiho looping an arm around hers. Mika watched them go, a familiar warmth in her chest, and in her cheeks. .    
  
Just the liquor, she told herself. But, of course, she _was_ a better actress than Ann.   
  
~*~


	34. Akira, Ryuji, and a Guys' Night In

~*~ ** _  
  
Ryuji_** _: so did Ann and Mika make out_ _  
_ ** _Shiho_** _: make up, you mean?_ _  
_ ** _Ryuji_** _: you heard me_ _  
_ ** _Shiho_** _: :P_ _  
_  
“Hey,” Akira abruptly breathed into Ryuji’s ear. Ryuji nearly dropped his phone.  
  
“Warn a guy, dude! Geez!”   
  
“Sorry,” Akira smiled, sheepish. He pulled Ryuji up from his seat on Leblanc’s doorstep, and started fishing in his pockets for the key.   
  
“Maybe it’s about time I got you a key,” Akira said lightly, as they made their way upstairs.   
  
“I dunno, dude. Are we there yet?”  
  
“What’s the big deal? You have a key to Ann’s place.”  
  
And Ann had a key to his, and they both exchanged house keys on Valentine’s Day, and neither Akira nor Shiho would let either of them hear the end of it even though it Ann and Ryuji insisted it wasn’t a big deal. All Ryuji could do was shrug, and lay back on Akira’s bed, draping an arm over his eyes.   
  
“Man… what kept you, anyway?”  
  
“I was getting you a surprise,” Akira grinned. “Think of it as an early Christmas.”  
  
Ryuji heard the scrape of an upturned crate sliding on the wood floor, the unfurling of the Phantom Thieves banner as a makeshift tablecloth- and a dense, heavy thunk.   
  
Ryuji opened one eye and saw two shot glasses, a bottle of whiskey, and Akira’s bright, eager smile.   
  
“Shit,” Ryuji grinned. “Let’s be Santa.”  
  
~*~  
  
 ** _Ryuji_** _: SHIHOOOOOOOO_ _  
_ ** _Shiho_** _: why are we yelling_ _  
_ ** _Ryuji_** _: I’M NOT. AKIRA AND I ARE DOING SHOTS AND I FORGOT HOW TO TURN OFF CAPS LOCK._ _  
_ ** _Shiho_** _: why are you like this_ _  
_  
“Who are you texting, your _girlfriend_?” Akira drawled, a dopey smile on his face.   
  
“Yeah, right,” Ryuji scoffed.   
  
“It’s Ann, right? Or Shiho? Either way. She’s a girl. She’s your friend…” Akira snickered, before doubling over with a full blown giggle fit. Ryuji just sighed and shook his head, draping an arm over Akira’s shoulders.   
  
“You’re such a lightweight,” Ryuji muttered fondly, reaching over and pouring himself another shot. He pounded it back, hissing as it went down.   
  
“How much do we have left?” Akira wondered.   
  
“I dunno. How much did you have?”  
  
“I dunno.”   
  
Their eyes met, and suddenly, they were doubled over, fighting back snorting laughter.   
  
“Alright, alright,” Akira said, wheezing. “We gotta… we gotta save some for later, ‘cuz we haven’t even gotten to your surprise yet.”  
  
“Oh, yeah? I think half a bottle of Fireball’s already a pretty sweet gift…”  
  
“Yeah, well,” Akira smiled dangerously, reaching for his bag. “An hour ago, I wasn’t nearly drunk enough to do _this_.”  
  
Moments later, a stunned and suddenly sober Ryuji discovered what Akira was mustering his liquid courage to do- or rather, to _wear_.   
  
“Akira,” Ryuji said, staring. “What the fuck is this.”  
  
Akira turned, a bell jingling around his neck, adjusting the fit of the cat’s-ear headband in his hair. He smiled, curling his hands into cat’s-paws.   
  
“It’s your gift,” Akira purred. “Master.”  
  
~*~  
  
 _Ryuji sent a picture._ _  
_ _  
_ ** _Ryuji_** _: WHY IS HE LIKE THIS_ _  
_ ** _Shiho_** _: Oh!_ _  
_ ** _Shiho_** _: Oh, he looks amazing!_ _  
_ ** _Ryuji_** _: YOU GOTTA HELP ME, SHIHO_ _  
_ ** _Shiho_** _: the caps lock key should be somewhere in the bottom left_ _  
_ ** _Ryuji_** _: NO, I MEAN_ _  
_ ** _Ryuji_** _: LOOK AT HIM_ _  
_ ** _Ryuji_** _: HE’S BEING ALL… CAT-LIKE_ _  
_ ** _Ryuji_** _: WHAT DO I DO_ _  
_ ** _Shiho_** _: What else can you do?_ _  
_ ** _Shiho_** _: Pet him. :3c_ _  
_ ** _Ryuji_** __: W H Y A R E Y O U L I K E T H I S  
  
~*~  



	35. Never Have I Ever - Akira, Ann, and Ryuji

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For candymeltzdraws, on their birthday. Enjoy!

~*~  
  
In the years after the former Phantom Thieves started to, in Sojiro’s words, ‘get to know each other’, Sojiro established three rules:   
  
One: no making out in his house. You took that stuff next door. (RIP Futaba’s libido.)   
  
Two: no making out on the first floor of Leblanc. People eat there.   
  
Three: no making out when there are customers waiting.   
  
Akira routinely scoffed at Sojiro’s rules. Sojiro made them sound like a bunch of animals! Just what kind of craziness did Sojiro think they were getting up to?   
  
“Debauchery!” Akira cried.   
  
“Debauchery!” Ann and Ryuji echoed.   
  
They clinked their glasses together and grinned. The three of them were sprawled out on Akira’s spare futon laid across the floor as a carpet, sharing a pitcher of Haru’s recipe- because while Akira was their resident coffee expert, it turned out Haru could mix a fine sangria. _This_ was their night of debauchery- three friends, lounging around, sipping wine. Bacchus himself would be proud. Though, Akira doubted the ancient Romans ever played ‘never have I ever’.   
  
“Alright, Akira,” Ryuji said. “Never have I ever stolen liquor before.”   
  
Akira rolled his eyes, lowering a finger. “For your information, I _bought_ this bottle.”   
  
“Yeah,” Ryuji scoffed, “because paying for alcohol as a minor is _so_ much better than just stealing it.”   
  
“Uh, yeah?” Akira huffed. “If you don’t want it, don’t drink it.”   
  
“I’m not,” Ryuji shrugged. “I made a batch without any wine in it.”   
  
“So you made fruit punch?” Ann laughed. “You made juice? You want some fuckin’ _juice_ , Ryuji?”   
  
“Hey,” Ryuji punched her in the arm. “If ‘being a man’ means ‘being an angry drunk’, then go ahead and call me Ryuji-chan.”   
  
“ _Ryu-chan~_ ”   
  
“ _Ryu-chan~!_ ”   
  
“ **_Fuck off!_ ** ”   
  
Ann cackled. Ryuji huffed, indignant, and pulled out one of her hair ties.   
  
“Now I’m lopsided!” Ann whined in dismay.   
  
“Die mad about it,” Ryuji teased. Ann walloped him in the arm. “Ow! Fuck!”   
  
“Alright, my turn,” Akira said, before the night devolved into a pillow fight. “Let’s start getting to the good stuff, shall we? Never have I ever…”   
  
Akira tapped his chin thoughtfully, breaking into a wicked grin. “...done it in public.”   
  
A pillow smacked Akira in the face.   
  
“That was _one time!_ ” Ryuji fumed. “That was _one time_ , and you _swore_ there was nobody coming-”   
  
“Nobody’s coming with _that_ attitude!” Akira teased.   
  
“Where the hell was this?” Ann demanded, grinning.   
  
“Okay, so, we were in IKEA-”   
  
“ _Shut up! Shut the fuck up!_ ” Ryuji cried, mortified.   
  
Ann wheezed. “Okay, yeah, I think I’ve heard enough…”   
  
“What about _you_ ?” Ryuji asked. “Put your finger down!”   
  
“What?!” Ann balked. “When have _I_ ever-”   
  
“Why don’t I check my call history? I’ve got my phone right here!”   
  
Ann’s cheeks went red. She hastily looked away.   
  
“...Okay, so sometimes I… I can’t wait ‘til… That doesn’t count!”   
  
“It counts!”   
  
“It’s a public restroom, but it’s not, like, _public_ public…”   
  
“It has public in the name!”   
  
Ryuji groaned, fuming in Ann’s face like they’ve done for years, while Akira lay on the floor, vibrating with laughter. Ann rolled her eyes and prodded him with her foot.   
  
“Alright, you little shit. Never have I ever gotten off to one of my magazines!”   
  
“Man, _whatever_ …” Akira scoffed, lowering a finger.   
  
Ryuji grabbed Ann by the shoulders. “Why are you lying? _Why are you lying?_ ”   
  
“What?! Ryuji, what are you-”   
  
“I’ve seen your albums! You keep every one of your spreads!”   
  
“Yeah, but I don’t _get off_ to them!” Ann screeched. “You think I would use my own photos as fap material? That’s super weird! That’s… like… incest or something!”   
  
“No no no, it’s just masturbating,” Akira chimed in.   
  
“Oh, come on,” Ryuji pressed. “You’re saying you wouldn’t make out with yourself?”   
  
Ann threw up her arms. “Is this the clone sex talk? We are _not_ having the clone sex talk!”   
  
“Fine. Fine!” Ryuji said. “It’s my turn, and you assholes are going down.”   
  
“Promise, _Ryu-chan_ …?”   
  
“Fuck you, Akira!” Ryuji huffed. “Alright… never have I ever… made out with Shiho.”   
  
“Fuck! Off! Ryuji!” Ann seethed. Akira sighed, and lowered a finger. Ann perked up.   
  
“Whoa, whoa, when was this?”   
  
“Senior year,” Akira said, waving a hand dismissively. “Look, it was finals week, we stayed up late studying, and we were both semi-delirious, so…”   
  
“Did you touch a boob?” Ryuji asked.   
  
“What? Don’t- Don’t say it like that.”   
  
“ _Did_ you?” Ryuji pressed.   
  
“Come on! Like you and Ann didn’t have a few after school cuddles while Shiho and I were stuck in the boonies!”   
  
“ _Answer the question!_ ”   
  
Akira crossed his arms and sat back, blowing his hair out of his eyes. “...Yes, Ryuji. I touched a boob. Two, even.”   
  
Ryuji narrowed his eyes. “... _Dude_ .”   
  
“Don’t judge him,” Ann said breezily. “Don’t get jealous. If you want to make out with Shiho so badly, just go ahead and ask her. She’ll probably say yes.”   
  
“Ew! Dude! Shiho’s, like, my sister!”   
  
“You _just_ said you would make out with your own clone!”   
  
“Yeah! _How is that the same thing?_ ”   
  
“Oh my god,” Akira rolled his eyes. “Guys.”   
  
Ann and Ryuji glowered at each other. She stuck out her tongue. He pulled out her other hair tie.   
  
“My turn,” Akira announced. “How many fingers have you guys got left?”   
  
“One,” Ann and Ryuji said together, both of them flipping Akira off.   
  
“You little shits,” Akira laughed.   
  
“How did this happen?” Ann wondered. “ _How_ is Akira winning?”   
  
“I know, right?” Akira said dryly. “I’m such a nasty bitch.”   
  
“Uh, yeah! Exactly!”   
  
“Go ahead,” Ryuji grumbled. “Let’s hear it.”   
  
“You asked for it,” Akira smiled dangerously. “Never have I ever… made out with Akira.”   
  
Two pillows collided with Akira’s face and made him slosh sangria all over the floor. He pulled the pillows away from his face, laughing.   
  
“Fuck you, Akira!” Ann and Ryuji chorused, glancing at each other and stifling laughter when they said it at the same time.   
  
“Is that a threat, or a promise…?”   
  
Akira grinned. He set his glass aside, opened his arms, and let the two tipsy blondes push him down onto his back.   
  
~*~


	36. Chemistry - Akira and Shiho

~*~  
  
There were many things cat-like about Akira. His smile, for instance. The way he leans into your hand when you touch his hair, or his cheek. The way he can somehow find a comfortable nook no matter how many people are sprawled on his bed- or, like tonight, the way he yowls like a lovesick tom when it’s the night before finals and his head’s about to explode.    
  
“Ughhhhhhhhhh,” Akira groaned, sinking down in his chair and sliding, boneless and limp, onto the carpet. Shiho watched him melodramatically melt onto the floor, her chin in her hands.   
  
Shiho’s frazzled hair and hollow eyes betrayed her own exhaustion, but at least she wasn’t on the floor like a total diva.    
  
“Hey, come on,” Shiho urged, poking Akira in the back with her big toe. “We gotta get through this.”   
  
“Shiho, all I know about chirality, I learned from Mass Effect,” Akira groaned, draping an arm over his eyes like a swooning prima donna. “Just go on without me, Shiho. Leave me here to die. Or fail Chemistry, whichever.”   
  
“Come on,” Shiho grumbled, tugging on Akira’s arm. Akira didn’t budge. She sighed, and dropped his arm on the floor like dead weight. Shiho followed soon after, her head thudding into Akira’s stomach.    
  
“Ow,” Akira said, deadpan.    
  
“You big baby,” Shiho murmured fondly.    
  
Akira sighed, casually draping an arm over Shiho’s shoulder. “What do you think Ann and Ryuji are doing right now?”   
  
Shiho glanced up at the clock on her desk- almost two in the morning.    
  
“I dunno,” Shiho shrugged. “Sleeping?”   
  
“With each other, I bet.”   
  
“Really? How much do you bet?”    
  
Akira checked his pockets. “...a thousand yen?”   
  
Shiho laughed. “A thousand yen says Ryuji hasn’t even started using the ‘L’ word, yet.”   
  
“I thought Ann was bi?”   
  
They giggled together, like a pair of semi-delirious teenagers who weren’t even close to ready for their chemistry final in the morning. Akira sighed, drowsy, idly playing with Shiho’s hair. It wasn’t how Ann played with her hair, when she was bored, or stressed- toying with it, braiding it. No, Akira hooked his fingers like claws and combed his fingers through Shiho’s hair, kneading it like a cat.     
  
“Ryuji’s so funny,” Shiho began, smiling at the memory. “There was one time, a few weeks ago, I took the train into the city. You were busy, remember? And Ann was tied up with work, too, so it was just me and Ryuji that weekend. When I had to come back, we were late coming to the station, and I missed the train. There wasn’t another train to Inaba for two hours, and he stayed there with me, and we talked. When I had to leave, I thanked him for waiting for me. And do you know what he said?”   
  
“What?”   
  
“‘I’ll always wait for you’.” Shiho beamed.    
  
Akira snorted, laughing. “Wow.”   
  
“I don’t think he really hears himself, sometimes…” Shiho laughed.    
  
“Well,” Akira tucked Shiho’s head under his chin. “At least he’s got good taste.”   
  
Shiho pulled away and pointedly met Akira’s eyes.    
  
“Don’t fall in love with me,” Shiho teased.    
  
Akira drew his hands out of Shiho’s hair and defiantly met her gaze.    
  
“Why not?” he purred.    
  
Shiho shivered, and smiled.    
  
“...Because… I just might let you,” Shiho whispered.    
  
Shiho took Akira’s hand, and pulled him up so he was cupping her cheek. Moments ago, they were just having a friendly, impromptu cuddle on the carpet. But now they were tangled up in each other, with Tokyo and the rest of their circle worlds away, and they were so close. So close, they could just go ahead and-   
  
They broke apart in an instant, making faces.    
  
"Oh. No."  
  
“Nope, nope, nope…”   
  
“Yeah, no. Sorry, Shiho…”   
  
“No no no, it’s  _ fine _ ,” Shiho snickered. “It’s fine. I’m just- I’m just a little too sleep deprived for this right now.”   
  
“Or maybe not sleep deprived  _ enough _ ,” Akira grinned.    
  
Shiho stood up and stretched, before reaching down and pulling Akira to his feet. They were many things to each other- friends, confidants, lifelines- but some things, they just weren’t. Not yet, at any rate. At least they'd have time to figure it out- much more time than they had to study.   
  
“Come on,” Shiho urged, rapping her knuckles against the stack of textbooks on her desk. “School starts in less than six hours. We better get cracking.”   
  
“Oh, Shihoooooo…” Akira whined.    
  
Shiho just shook her head with a weary fondness. There was that damn cat, yowling again…   
  
~*~


End file.
